


First (and maybe last)

by tanukiham



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:33:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanukiham/pseuds/tanukiham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I just … I didn’t expect my first kiss to be from someone with a moustache.”</p><p>Barker's had sex before, technically, but there's a lot of things he's never done. And Pax is surprisingly dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First (and maybe last)

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who's upset with Chapter 10 of [the Light Shall Lead](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1115364/chapters/2246303), and anyone who just wants to see Templars bone.
> 
> Set in a side branch of [the Other Hawke](http://archiveofourown.org/series/21960) universe where Everyone is Fine and Nothing Bad Happens Ever.

The first time is a first for both of them; Barker has been to the Rose before, has thrust into the wet warmth of a bored whore, but never has he ever tangled his fingers in shirt-buttons, palms damp, hands shaking, mouth hard up against another mouth to swallow his moans. Never has he ever been kissed, never been pushed back until his knees hit the edge of a bed, never stumbled and nearly fallen because he’d been too busy chasing the scratch of sun-chapped lips and, Maker forgive him, the bristle of a hairy lip. Never has he collapsed, eyes blinking wide, and just stared, stunned with realisation.

“What?”

Barker shakes his head. “I just … I didn’t expect my first kiss to be from someone with a moustache.”

Paxley laughs, dropping a hand to Barker’s shoulder for balance. “Oh?” His cheeks are flushed and Barker thinks, _I made him blush, how is this possible?_ “First? Really?” He gives Barker a push, ducking his head to breathe warm and damp across Barker’s chin. “Best have another, in that case.”

He tastes of … mouth, Barker supposes, and what else should he taste like? It’s good, like the warmth of him is good, like the scent of his sweat is good, the tension in his shoulders, stronger and broader than expected. Barker pushes up against him, and when that doesn’t work pulls him down until he has Pax sprawled messy between his legs, both hands under Paxley’s shirt and smoothing over the roughness of hair on his chest.

Pax leans up on his palms, grinning until his eyes crinkle up in the corners and Barker falls in love with that, a little, just a little. “If you’re looking for breasts,” Paxley says conversationally, “you’re going to be disappointed.”

He’s ridiculous. “You twit.” Barker pinches him, and then finds a nipple and pinches that too, and it’s worth it for the sharp intake of breath, the surprise, and the almost gleeful look that dawns on Paxley’s face.

“Oh!”

The shirts come off. Paxley tosses his on the floor, and then he palms Barker’s belly, fingers splayed open like his mouth is open, like his eyes, wide with something Barker doesn’t know and can’t guess. Never has he ever been looked at like this, never has anybody _wanted_ this. He swallows, tries to speak, but nothing comes out.

Paxley’s eyes come up, and this time his grin is sheepish beneath that outrageous moustache. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, sweet and honest and so very Paxley.

“Best not to stop now,” and it’s awkward, they’re both so awkward, but somehow it’s perfect. They never even make it out of their trousers; Paxley drags Barker’s hand into his pants and fucks desperately into his palm but it’s the earlobe sucking that makes Barker spill, embarrassingly, in his smalls. Paxley’s eyes go wide and then he squeezes them shut, and the sound that comes out of his throat when he comes reverberates down Barker’s spine like the striking of a bell.

Paxley is quiet for all of a dozen heartbeats before he laughs, and his smile is like a sunrise. “I’ve never done that before. Maker, can we do it again?”

They do, and again and again; not all at once, of course. Barker rooms with Hugh and Hugh would have kittens if he walked in on this. Worse. Barker thinks of Hugh’s face, twisted in disgust, and he cannot, will not let that happen. So. Timing is important, and if Barker schedules Hugh’s and Paxley’s night patrols to suit himself, well, it’s only a small abuse of power.

The first time Paxley pushes Barker’s knees apart and ducks down to lick his cock, Barker nearly loses his mind. “Fuck, Pax, _fuck_ ,” he pants, hunching over until he’s curled around Paxley’s head, hands flat on his shoulderblades. Paxley sucks and sucks. Mind, gone, lost in Pax’s mouth. Paxley spits into a handkerchief, grinning triumphantly.

“That might be the first time I’ve heard you swear,” he says, wiping his mouth and clambering into Barker’s lap. “Here, kiss me, come on,” and then he jerks himself off, with his teeth caught in Barker’s lip.

Barker discovers that he doesn’t mind the taste of cock, or balls, or the stretch of skin behind Paxley’s balls that doesn’t seem to have a name. He doesn’t swallow when Paxley spends in his mouth, always wants to rinse it out with water, but he doesn’t mind. Paxley is so loose after, so lazy, just molten muscles draped uselessly over Barker’s bed. He lets Barker explore him then, unselfconscious and sleepy.

“What’s your obsession with my navel?” He runs his fingers through Barker’s hair, smiling. Fondly? Maybe. “It’s not navel-gazing when it’s other people, you know.”

“You’re so pale here. Like parchment. How do you exist?”

Paxley grins at him. “And you’re brown everywhere, so it makes me look worse. Like a fish.”

“Like something dead in a cave,” Barker agrees, and Paxley laughs, swatting him feebly.

“You’re charming. I can see why I keep coming back.”

There, that eye-crinkle. This time Barker leans up to kiss it, and then Paxley’s cheek, and his neck. It feels like … something good, welling in his throat. “I’m glad. That you do.”

Because it’s all Pax, always him who starts it, who shows up uninvited but not unexpected, who slides his fingers into Barker’s belt and cheekily unbuckles him when Barker is still trying to talk, for goodness sake. It’s Pax who wants to try things, adventurous in ways that Barker isn’t brave enough to be. 

Barker doesn’t ask where the salve came from, but when he finds out it was Selwyn he baulks. “What did you say you _wanted_ it for?”

Paxley waggles his eyebrows. “For sex. With a man.” He grins into Barker’s horror. “I didn’t say who. Oh, you look like a baby bird. Should I put something in your mouth if you’re going to leave it open like that?”

And he’s so dirty, and Barker--

“Have you seen Rue’s tits? Maker, they’re bouncy. I could bounce them on my tongue.” He’s muttering in Barker’s ear, one hand wrapped around Barker’s cock and the other holding Barker’s back up against his chest. Barker can feel him hard in the cleft of his arse, and he’s rolling his hips, fucking up against Barker’s skin.

“Don’t … that … it’s disrespectful,” but he can’t think when Paxley is driving him so hard, all he can do is groan.

And the bastard chuckles, teeth scraping his ear. “She told me she’d like to ride your face until you grew gills,” and that’s it, Barker’s done, comes so hard he’s afraid he’ll go blind. Paxley just laughs and rolls him onto his belly to rut against his arse.

After-- “Did Ruvena really say that?”

Paxley snorts, “She was drunk. And desperate, she said.”

“Oh. _Thanks_.”

Paxley nuzzles the back of his neck. “ _I’m_ not desperate. If you’re wondering.”

Barker doesn’t know what to say.

The first time they try That Thing, the one they haven’t really talked about but both _know_ about, it goes badly. 

“Ow! No, stop. No, that’s not …”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, just … no. I don’t think that’s going in there.” Paxley chews his lip, looking uncertain. It’s new and Barker doesn’t like it, so Barker pulls him down, kisses him with both hands on his face, tries to make it clear that it doesn’t matter and they don’t need to, it’s not important. Eventually, Paxley leans away. “You can go between my thighs, if you want. I’ll roll over.”

“We don’t have to,” Barker argues.

“But I _want_ to,” and then he slides down to bite Barker’s nipples until Barker has to admit he wants to, too.

It stopped being nothing a long time ago. Barker’s not sure if it ever really was just nothing but now it’s definitely something, and when Margitte flashes Paxley those sweet smiles or Ellen leans her head on his shoulder it makes something in Barker’s chest twinge, like he’s pulled a muscle. Sometimes when he kisses Pax he does it too hard, too desperately, like he’s drowning, but Paxley never seems to mind, just kisses back just as messy.

Maker forgive him, but it’s so _good_. He never knew it could be, not with a man, not with a friend, not with anyone. They’re so reckless, now, Barker letting himself be kissed in storage closets and alleyways, whenever there’s a moment and no-one can see. Someone will. What will they do then?

It has to stop. Barker tries to express this, but Paxley just cocks his head on one side and listens for a while before interrupting. “Are you hard? _I’m_ hard. You’re making that ‘Knight Adjutant’ face, and I want to call you ‘ser’ while you suck me off. Can we do that?”

He’s impossible, but impossible to refuse.

They try That Thing again, and it’s still wrong. Barker could live without it, but Pax … he looks disappointed, and Barker hates it.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Barker argues, but then, out of habit, “except that lip-rug.”

“You like my lip-rug.” Paxley rubs his face on Barker’s chest. “You think it’s manly.”

“I think it’s horrendous. But,” and how to say this, “there’s nothing wrong with you. We don’t have to do it. We don’t _ever_ have to do it.”

“Yes, but I _want_ to.”

He sulks, and Barker can’t bear it.

It happens one day when Pax is screwing around with Ruvena in the mess; she has him in a headlock, smushed up against her breast, and Barker can tell it’s turning Paxley on. Maker’s breath, it’s turning _him_ on, and he thinks about extricating Pax and dragging him into an empty classroom and just, fucking, _fucking_ him. But then Paxley elbows a cup of water into her lap and she lets him go, cursing like a sailor, and Pax looks straight up at Barker, and his smile--

Andraste’s mercy, he’s in love. With _that_ , with _Pax_ , and his stupid face and his stupid _jokes_ , and the way he shamelessly tucks his hands inside Barker’s pants to fondle his rear every chance he gets. _Why?_ Well, _because_.

So, there’s only one thing to do.

Hawke starts off looking bored, feet kicked up on his desk, which really is _his_ desk so Barker resists the urge to snap at him about it. Boredom doesn’t last much past the words, “sex with a man,” though, and then Hawke’s mouth falls open enough to catch flies, and his face turns an odd but predictable colour.

Barker makes himself do it, though, and then, when he’s finished, Hawke clears his throat. “Fuck, I hope you brought the good brandy.”

It takes half a bottle and a lot of stammering and hand gestures, and Hawke says most of it into the desk, ears red as strawberries, but at the end of it he looks up, with this weak, awkward smile and says, “Good luck.”

Organising things isn’t difficult. Hugh gets in a fight at the Hanged Man with one of the city guard, so Barker’s entirely justified in giving him overnight duty up at the Chantry. This time he extends an actual invitation, has dinner brought up, and when Paxley sees it all laid out he gets this funny look on his face as though he might actually run away. “Is that wine? Are you trying to seduce me?”

Barker shrugs. “It’s not very good wine, if that helps.”

“Huh. I think it does, actually. Did you steal these candles from the Chantry?”

“No. I dared Ruvena to steal them from the Chantry.”

And Paxley laughs, and relaxes, and it’s fine.

It is in fact better than fine. Hawke’s advice, reluctant as he’d been to give it, helps smooth the way. Literally, in fact; Barker distracts Paxley with his mouth while he works his fingers inside, opens him up slowly, gentle as he can, until Pax is making short needy noises that might be words but might not be anything.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, go on, I think this time--”

“Put your hand on your … while I do this, you have to--”

“Okay, okay, just come on.”

Maker, he’s so hot, so tight, spread out on the sheets all peach and gold with his cock leaking over the tight ring of his fingers, and this time it _doesn’t_ hurt him, and when he moans Barker feels his heart skip because _this_ time it really is the first time.

“Oh, oh, there, like that, don’t stop, don’t you _dare_ stop…”

Barker can’t hold off long enough, groans as his hips stutter and jerk and his balls empty and Pax makes a highly indignant sound. So Barker keeps going, watching the in-out slide of his dick, wrapping his hand around Paxley’s and stroking him until his head goes back and his mouth stretches out into this perfect O. 

It’s beautiful.

Barker gives him some water and wipes them both clean, and then spoons up behind Pax to fold him in both arms and just be still.

“That was more like it.”

Barker kisses him behind the ear. “Mmm. Good.”

“Did you … learn that at the Rose?” It’s nonchalant, but it’s much too nonchalant, and Barker can’t help squeezing him.

“No. That’s the first time I’ve ever done … that.”

“Huh. Obviously I’m curious, though, since you were terrible at it before.”

Barker bites him, not hard. “I asked Hawke for tips.”

For a moment there’s no response, then Pax twists around to give him a horrified look that is completely worth it. “You _what_? What did you _say_?”

“That I was trying to have sex with a man.” He raises his eyebrows, but he can’t waggle them. “I didn’t say who.”

“You … you’re _evil_.” Paxley grins. “Maker, his face! Did his ears go red? You know he’s embarrassed when his ears go red. Oh, that’s just perfect.” His grin softens. “You should kiss me.”

Barker does, and he finds Paxley’s hand under the covers to lace their fingers together. “All right?”

“Excellent. I would definitely let you kiss me again.”

It’s only a day or so later that Hawke says he needs to see them, and won’t tell Barker why until they’re both there and the door is closed. “I’m reassigning your quarters,” he says, and he doesn’t make eye contact with either of them. “Hugh’s going in with Collins, and Pax you’re in with Barker. All right?”

It’s a shock, and Barker isn’t about to complain but Paxley frowns and Barker _knows_ he’s going to do it. “Why?”

Hawke clears his throat, and then he fixes them both with a flat glare that’s ruined by the fact that his ears are, again, strawberry. “Because Hugh says you’re fucking each other and he doesn’t want to walk in on it. Which is fraternisation, by the way, and … and I don’t want to know.”

Barker can’t say a word, stunned into silence, but Paxley just frowns. “Huh.” Then (Barker can see it happening but he can’t stop it) Paxley grins, “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to know. I could tell you all about--”

“No.”

“--this _thing_ he does with his--”

“I don’t want to know! I really, really don’t want to know. I wish I didn’t know _anything_! Just,” and he has his hands up in front of him like a shield, “go, get your stuff sorted. Don’t tell me about anything _at all_. _Ever_. Fucking _dismissed_.”

Barker doesn’t ask Hugh how he knew, but Paxley does.

Hugh snorts, glaring at them over his end of the trunk. “Because _you’ve_ got love bites all down your neck and _he’s_ acting like he finally got the stick out of his arse. Though. Guess you replaced it with something else, now, right Barks?”

Paxley laughs, though he’s a bit pink. “Do you really want an answer to that?”

“No, I want you to _help with this trunk_ before my arms drop off. Come on!”

When Paxley comes back, Barker’s sitting on the bed, definitely not still confused about the whole thing.

“Hugh’s fine,” Pax tells him. “He said it ups his chances with Rue. I think he’s banking on getting into her pants by process of elimination.”

“That’s disgusting and inappropriate.”

“So’s doing sex on Hugh’s bed, but we’re still going to.” Pax grins. “Come on, I don’t have long, some prat gave me night patrols.”

Much later, Paxley flops down on Barker’s chest, scuffing his moustache up under Barker’s chin. “Anyway, it won’t help him at all. And if we offered I _bet_ she'd come to bed with us.”

It takes a moment for Barker to back up to wherever Pax thinks the conversation is, and then he’s torn between reluctant arousal (too soon, not yet) and a sick, miserable feeling he tries to hide by closing his eyes. “ … inappropriate.”

Paxley’s quiet for a moment, but then-- “You’re not going to get odd about it, are you? I think … I might be falling in love with you just a _little_ and I’d like to keep doing that, if it’s all right with you.”

Barker blinks. “No. I mean, yes. Yes, it’s all right.”

“Good.” He kisses Barker’s neck, and sits up, looking for his pants. “Also, yes, she definitely would.” He glances over, eyes bright with mischief. “I mean, I did tell you she’s desperate.”

Barker groans, and tips him off the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> And everyone lived Happily Ever After Forever I promise.


End file.
